Chasing Imagination

Casper

Amy cocked her head to the side. ‘So, tell me what you were talking about last night when you mentioned the Germans and the so-called ‘Lithuanian bitch.’’

It was the following day and, though we both sat together, this time in her room as Felix was still asleep in mine, it was as if last night had never happened. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but I knew that it had to mean something.

And maybe I wanted it to mean something.

I had never been in love before. I had liked Imogen for nearly a year, and there had been another girl when I was about sixteen years old at my school, but I’d always been far too shy to ask her out. These days, love wasn’t what it was in the stories. Love was to produce children and continue on the family and become financially secure.

In fact, to put it simply, love just wasn’t love anymore.

But the Dreamers were different. I saw it all around me. Matt and Imogen were the most potent, but I saw it with Felix and Kira too, and even with Linzy and Dan, though I wasn’t around them so often. All kinds of relationships: Matt and Imogen had been together officially only about a year, and they were only my age; Imogen a little younger and Matt a little older. It still conveyed that youthful, teenage excitement of new love, a heartbreak most likely waiting to happen, but nice while it lasted, and with the potential to progress onto something more.

Linzy and Dan were much more well-established. They were both about four years older than me, and had been together since they were around my age, when Linzy joined the Dreamers not so long before her twenty-first birthday. Although they had lost the thrill of young love, they were something altogether more permanent. If there was a vicar Dreamer somewhere, I wouldn’t be surprised if they asked him to marry them, just to make it official.

And then there was Felix and Kira; a relationship that hadn’t even really began, but had the potential to be something so sweet. Again, at a similar age to me, they were full of the teenage ‘crush’ idea—sideways glances, flirting that was both subtle and not-so-subtle, a cute awkwardness. We were all waiting with baited breath for them to ‘officially’ get together, though there was already something happening between them ‘unofficially.’ It was now just a question of who would make the first move.

And then there was Amy and I. I had never loved, but maybe this had the very, very slight possibility of being something. Just maybe.

I was dragged back to the real world by Amy’s eyes.

‘Casper?’ she repeated.

I smirked slightly, as though I hadn’t been daydreaming for a moment.

‘Oh, the ‘Lithuanian girl,’’ I said. ‘What about her?’

‘Felix said she was 'fit,'’ Amy said, putting quotation marks around the word 'fit.' ‘And I think you agreed.’

‘Oh,’ I said, feeling awkward. Did that mean she liked me then? If she was insulted by me calling other girls fit, then did that mean she felt that we were kind of together?

Or was I just analysing things way too much?

‘I don’t even know her,’ I said. ‘I’ve never met her. But I’ve heard she’s not very nice. I don’t even know her name though. I think she has pink hair, but it’s hardly important.’

‘Pink hair?’ Amy repeated. I realised only then that she still wasn’t fully used to the idea of things like artificially coloured hair. Mine was dyed, and so was Phil’s, but it was only black—that wasn’t so exciting. Leah had pink streaks in hers and Linzy had red sections. And then of course there was Nightshade with her deep plum-like purple. To be honest, she should be growing accustomed to the idea by now, but these things take time.

‘Yeah, anyway, she’s just one of Eisenberg’s lot,’ I said.

‘Eisenberg?’ she repeated.

‘The ‘Master,’’ I said. ‘He’s the leader of the Berlin Dreamers; one of the biggest bases in Europe. To be honest, I think he’s a little bit up himself.’

Amy giggled at this. Coming from her society, she still found it mildly amusing every time someone swore, cursed or used an imaginative insult. It wasn’t that swearing was banned up above; it was just a little more frowned upon than it was down here.

‘When he became their leader, nearly six years ago, he decided to rename himself the Master,’ I pointed out.

‘Nightshade told everyone to rename her Nightshade,’ Amy challenged. ‘I don’t suppose that’s her real name.’

‘No, I guess you’re right,’ I said. ‘But the Master sounds so much more pretentious. Y’know, ‘I’m the leader and I want everyone to know it’ sort of thing.’

‘I guess,’ she agreed in a musing tone.

We were silent again, and I could only hazard a guess at what she could possibly be thinking. I dearly hoped that it was the same as what went on in my mind.

No. Of course someone like Amy would never like me; not in that way anyway. What reason would she have?

And yet, she had said I was better looking than Matt. She said she liked me more than Matt.

Why did it always come back to bloody Matt?

But, regardless of whether Matt was anything to do with this or not, she’d still said it, which meant that she must at least like me the tiniest amount.

Just in a friendly way, of course.

But she’d said I was better looking. Did that mean anything...romantic?

Of course it didn’t! I was way too hopeful. Friends were allowed to tell each other that they were pretty and that they looked nice, weren’t they?

It wasn’t like me to be this idealistic; if anything I had always been the pessimist of the group; always too practical. It was really irritating, actually. Being a Dreamer, I hoped to get away from things like pessimism and realism—this was hardly what would be considered a ‘realistic’ lifestyle, after all. But outlooks like that were part of my genetic makeup it seemed, and they always had their annoying little way of turning round and stabbing me in the back, just when I thought I had gotten away from thinking like a citizen.

I was daydreaming again.

‘Are you alright?’ Amy asked, cocking her head to the side and examining me with a puzzled expression. Her dark brown eyes were as warm as I had ever seen them today, and the sides of her mouth creased into a slight smile, lighting up her entire face.

Did she like it down here? Did she really? She looked happier than I had ever seen her this morning, but was that true happiness?—satisfaction that she would really rather be down here than up above.

Because I knew that I could never truly be happy until she was. That much had become obvious to me.

‘I’m fine,’ I mumbled absent-mindedly. She smiled—a genuine smile again; it seemed she was getting better. It made me smile back.

I just had to know for sure.